Page 18 of Break Your Fall

I need you.Three words that are haunting me the most.

She turns back to the door and I take another desperate step forward. “Reyna, this doesn’t have to change anything.”

She spins back around. “Maybe not for you. You’ve hadyears.” I flinch at her knowing emphasis. “I’ve had aminute.”

The door is opened and slammed in my face before I can stop her again. I stand out here with lead in my shoes and unspoken words in my throat. I watch her latch the lock through the window, a harsh click that makes me close my eyes, shake my head to loosen up my thoughts, find more words.

When I open my eyes, the bedroom light flicks off, leaving both of us in darkness. I try to pull in a breath, but it’s staggered, too tight.

Mystruggle through all of this is trying to find the balance between when to fight and when to let go.

I start backing up, one uncertain step after another, turning away from the door once I finally convince myself it’s the right thing to do.

Tonight, I have to let it go.

I make it home, idling my car at the curb. My head falls back against the seat and I stare at the fuzz on my roof. It blurs and blends by the time I pluck out a stray piece. I scrape it between my fingers and flick it toward the window.

When the purr of the engine gets to be too heavy, too reminding, I shut off the car and step out, the slam of the door alerting me to my old friend adrenaline, back and branding.

I’ve accomplished nothing. I’m getting nowhere.

I’m going nowhere.

I stalk up my driveway, feeling the clench in my jaw, the boil in my veins as my eyes drift up. One look at that basketball hoop hanging above the garage and I’m charging forward. I jump, flying up into the air, my hands landing with a slam around the rim. I yank and fall, the whole hoop crashing down with me. The backboard lands flat against the cement and I land back against the garage door with heaving breaths.

“What was that?” my father booms a moment later as he jogs over from the front door, seeing me on the ground in the funk that is my life. “What happened?”

I lift a hand, let it flop back down. “A slam dunk, Dad.”

“Was it necessary to emphasize the slam?” he asks with his hands on his hips, one hand jutting out toward the mess I’ve made. “Who’s going to fix this?”

I push to my feet. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Did something happen with your scholarship?”

I avoid his stare as I pass him. “Myscholarshipis fine.”

“Where are you going?” he calls to me as I realize I’m heading back to my car. Away from my failures and the guy who makes me feel worse about them.

Camille and Julian are sitting at the kitchen table when I walk through their door, the lights off except for the one above the sink.

“I got it,” he’s saying to her.

“Let me do it,” she argues. “Payback for ripping off my toenail.” She gives Julian a smile as she holds an ice pack against his jaw, and he relents with a slight laugh.

Their smiles fall when they look over at me. Julian reaches for the ice pack to keep it in place as Camille stands, their faces shifting with concern.

I choke around the words before I say them and look away, blinking to soothe the needles poking behind my blurred vision.

“She knows. I told her.”

I look back at Camille when I feel her hand on my arm, my stare a pointedAnd I toldyou.

She gives me a slight nod and a comforting smile. “Pepperoni?”

I think I nod back and she pats me on the shoulder before moving to the phone to order a pizza I probably won’t be able to swallow.

I take her empty seat across from Julian and he drops the ice pack onto my sore hand. We both manage a halfhearted chuckle through another momentary cease fire.

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